


The Tears of a God

by the_foxiest_box



Series: Grimdorks Angst Party [2]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, angsty themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-26
Updated: 2014-03-26
Packaged: 2018-01-17 01:47:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1369411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_foxiest_box/pseuds/the_foxiest_box
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your name is ROSE LALONDE, and you are currently rather concerned about your BEST FRIEND. He messaged you about an hour ago, making talk of a BOX he found in his LATE FATHER'S room. He had seemed excited about it at the time, but now he's not responding like he said he would. You know John has a tendency to be a jerk sometimes, but you feel like something's a little off this time around.</p><p>In which John is so so sad, and so so lost.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Tears of a God

**Author's Note:**

> HOLY SHIT THIS WAS LONGER THAN I EXPECTED.
> 
> This entire thing took four attempts to actually take off and stay flying, phew!

\-- tentacleTherapist [TT] began pestering ectoBiologist [EB] \--

TT: John are you there?  
TT: Did you figure out what was in that box you found?  
TT: You said it belonged to your dad, right?  
TT: John?

\-- tentacleTherapist [TT] ceased pestering ectoBiologist [EB] \--

 

Your name is ROSE LALONDE, and you are currently rather concerned about your BEST FRIEND. He messaged you about an hour ago, making talk of a BOX he found in his LATE FATHER'S room. He had seemed excited about it at the time, but now he's not responding like he said he would. You know John has a tendency to be a jerk sometimes, but you feel like something's a little off this time around.

You recall the last conversation you had with the boy before he went mysteriously idle.

 

\-- ectoBiologist [EB] began pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] \--

EB: rose!!  
TT: You sound excited.  
EB: i found a box in my dad's room.   
TT: And?  
EB: it's addressed to me!  
EB: i can't believe it survived all of those imp attacks...   
TT: Well, don't keep me waiting.   
EB: hang on i'll tell you what it is as soon as i get it open.   
TT: Alright.   
TT: What's inside?  
TT: John?  
TT: Hello?  
\-- [EB] is now an idle chum! --  
TT: I will check back in with you in a bit.   
TT: Whatever was in that box must have been pretty overwhelming. 

\-- tentacleTherapist [TT] ceased pestering ectoBiologist [EB] \--

 

That was an hour ago.

At this point you're getting worried. Although John had a bad habit of not answering his friends sometimes, he never usually disappeared mid conversation. Your fears are growing, even though he probably only forgot he was talking to you. Still, you feel like addressing the problem. 

 

\-- tentacleTherapist [TT] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG] \--

TT: Dave, have you tried messaging John within the past hour by any chance?  
TG: yeah he was idle why   
TT: I hate to admit it but I'm concerned about that.  
TT: He disappeared completely out of the blue while I was talking to him.  
TT: He told me he found a box in his father's room.  
TG: dont worry about it  
TG: hes probably just freaking out about something dumb  
TG: like the time his shitty posters got wrecked  
TG: or when he got lost in a fucking grocery store  
TT: He got lost in a grocery store?  
TG: no  
TG: but he would do something like that   
TT: That's nice, Dave.  
TT: I'll be careful if he and I ever go to a grocery store.  
TG: good luck finding one of those  
TG: and even more luck finding that kid

\-- tentacleTherapist [TT] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG] \--

 

You're not too sure why you even bothered asking Dave about your friend's whereabouts. You're better off just making the trip to LOWAS than asking any of your friends about your concerns. 

And that's just what you're doing. You forgot how dark it was in the Land of Wind and Shade. It's certainly been a while since you were guiding little thirteen-year-old John around this terrain. Despite your minimal knowledge about the geography of John's planet, his house is easy to find; you built it after all. It towers miles above the rest if the planet making it obvious to anyone where the Heir of Breath lived. You did a good job.

Fireflies are abundant as you set your feet down in his front lawn. They kiss your cheeks, welcoming you back to the planet. They seem to know you're the Seer of Light. You approach the front door, only to find that there was no longer a door in the frame. Slowly, you step into the house, fireflies following behind you. It stinks of crude oil, and the furniture is strewn about the house. It's a war zone. You hardly recognize the place that John once lived so peacefully in. It's a house, but no longer a home. 

"John...?" You call out to him tentatively, beginning to make your way up the stairs.

There is no response.

You climb over the bathtub that's still laying at the top of the stairs. You can't believe it's still there after all this time.

There's a light. Down the darkened hall, there's a light on. The heir is home. You creep silently toward the light like a moth. Sure, you nearly trip over a few pieces of debris lying around, but you make it to the door knob without making a sound. 

"John...?" You call again, letting the light fill the hall as you open the door.

"Rose!?" His sudden response shocks you. You weren't expecting him to be so startled. 

You knew John's room was a mess, but now it looks even more a mess. There are little index cards everywhere, and there's the Heir of Breath sitting in the center of them all. You honestly have no idea what on earth he's doing, but his eyes look distraught.

"John, what the hell are you doing?" You step further into the room, eyeing the floor.

"Get out of here! Who invited you over?!" John stands up quickly; you're concerned about his sudden anger.

"You dropped off pesterchum without reason an hour ago, and you expect no one to go and see if you're okay?" You don't leave the room like he asked.

"Rose, please leave!" There's a sense of urgency in his voice. The papers on the ground rustle as a light breeze shakes the room.

Again, you completely ignore his request. You don't understand why he wants you gone so terribly. You kneel down and pick up one of the cards on the ground. As you're reading it silently, it all starts to click.

DEAR SON,

IF YOU ARE READING THIS  
THEN YOU ARE OFFICIALLY A HIGH SCHOOL STUDENT.  
GOOD LUCK.

I AM SO PROUD OF YOU.

Oh.

_Oh._

You look back up to John, whose expression you cannot read, and then back down again. You reach for one more card. John has stopped protesting.

DEAR SON,

IF YOU ARE READING THIS   
THEN YOU ARE OFFICIALLY STRONG  
ENOUGH TO LIFT THE FRIDGE.

YOU HAVE GROWN INTO A FINE,  
STRONG YOUNG MAN. 

I AM SO SO PROUD OF YOU. 

You realize that John never went to high school, nor did he ever lift a fridge. These were all messages his dad had yet to give him. And that man was dead. He'd never receive these notes; at least not the proper way. When you raise your eyes again, John has turned his back to you. Was this what was in the box?

"Were... these in the box?" Your voice is quiet, not harsh. 

He nods silently, and slowly sinks back into a sitting position, back still turned. He huffs and tugs his hood down and over his face. Great, he's being a sour puss. You drop the notes you held in your hand and approach him. 

"Don't look at me!!" He backlashes very suddenly, which makes you jump just a bit. There's an odd warble about his tone. "I'm pathetic..."

"John, are you okay?" You lower yourself beside him, and you can hear how shaky his breathing is. 

John is crying. He's silent for the most part, but you can just tell, and it breaks your heart. Honestly, you're not sure how to avert his tears, so you simply place a hand on his shoulder. You're not surprised when he reacts negatively.

"Please leave me alone, Rose..." You feel him give a small hiccup. 

When you were younger, the biggest mistake you ever made was pushing everyone away when you needed them most. John was about to make the same mistake, and you're not going to let him make it. Since you don't plan on leaving him, you sit yourself down against his back. From there, you can feel every hitch his body makes as the poor boy continues crying to himself.

"John, why are you doing this to yourself?" You murmur over your shoulder. 

He doesn't respond, but instead removes his glasses for under his hood. He sniffles pathetically before rubbing his face. He's not making progress, but it's okay. You'll let him take as much time as he needs to regroup. You know what it's like to be holding this much grief for so long. You're going to let him get it all out, if he needs to.

"I'm seventeen." He finally responds.

"And...?" You turn around, hoping to face him.

"I should have more control over my own fucking emotions!" You can hear him swallow before he continues, "It's pathetic and weak of me."

You want to smack him for saying that; he's just like Dave. John is absolutely NOT pathetic for wanting to cry. Hell, if any seventeen-year-old boy from Earth were put in John's situation, they'd probably cry too. You wish this boy would stop labeling himself as 'weak', you really do. You can hear him give a small whine or whimper from under his dampened blue hood. 

"Your dad died when you were fourteen, John." He still refuses to look at you, "You have every right in the world to just get on your knees and bawl about it...!"

"Yeah, but..." He starts miserably.

You extend your hand to his hood, gently trying to tug it up. He's got a good grip on the hood too, unfortunately. You must admit, you completely understand where this behavior is coming from. If anyone was resentful to their own emotions, it was you, and everyone knew where that landed you. It would rip your heart out if John landed in that same pit of doom and darkness.

That's when you notice his other hand. In his right hand is another note tucked tightly in his fist. 

"What do you have there?" You assume it's just another note, but John seems particularly attached to this one.

Once again, he fails to respond. He doesn't protest as you gently remove it from his hands to get a better look at its content.

DEAR SON,

IF YOU ARE READING THIS  
THEN YOU HAVE LIKELY FOUND MY BOX  
OF NOTES TO YOU. CONGRATULATIONS.

I DO NOT MEAN TO ALARM YOU, BUT THIS IS  
LIKELY MY FINAL NOTE TO YOU. I'M SORRY  
I WONT BE ABLE TO DELIVER THE REST OF THESE  
TO YOU PERSONALLY, BUT I KNOW YOU ARE A  
VERY STRONG BOY, AND THAT YOU WILL  
BE BRAVE WITHOUT ME. 

NO MATTER WHAT POINT IN TIME YOU ARE  
READING THIS

I WANT YOU TO KNOW THAT I LOVE YOU  
VERY MUCH.

I WILL NEVER STOP BEING PROUD OF YOU. 

Truthfully, you want to cry after reading that note, and he's not even your own father. It's no matter to you why John has begun to sob beside you. It sounds like he's choking back every sob he makes, eliciting small whines each time he does so. You can practically feel how much he's hurting at this point. You can't take it anymore. This is heartbreaking to watch. All at once, you wrap your arms around this shaking boy and hold him tight.

To your surprise, John latches onto you, continuing to choke on his own distressed emotions. You might not have had the greatest mother in the world, but you loved her, and you knew what it was like to have someone so dear to you ripped from your hands. Because love is watching someone die. 

"We're all proud of you, John. I hope you know that." You exhale sorrowfully.

"I know... I know..." To your surprise John moves back, his hood no longer shielding his face, "I'm gonna miss having a dad, that's all."

"You're only just now realizing this?" You watch as he rubs his tear ridden face, replacing his glasses over his nose.

"I guess." He shrugs, sniffling and falling back onto the ground with a flop.

It hits you that when you and John arrived at the top of that tower three years ago he hardly had more than a second to realize that his father had been brutally murdered before he himself was ruthlessly killed as well. When he was reanimated, you recon all of his focus was on bringing you back to life. This was probably the first time John is realizing how much he misses his dad, and that's awful.

You tumble onto the oil stained floor along side this person who you've come to love so much, "What a fucked up world we live in, huh, heir?"

"Pretty fucked up, seer." Somehow, you earn a small laugh from the boy beside you, who reaches over and holds your hand moments later.

You give his hand a small squeeze before whispering, "I'm glad I have you, John."

He simply gives a heaving sigh and whispers back, "Me too, Rose."

As stated before, your name is ROSE LALONDE, and you love your best friend, JOHN EGBERT. You're okay with the fact that HE MIGHT NEED TO CRY SOMETIMES and maybe even YELL FOR A BIT. He may be a GOD, but he's still just a KID. A kid who lost his childhood too soon. As you lay side by side, hand in hand, you can tell that the WINDY BOY is going to be just fine. 

As long as you're around, anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> I originally just wanted to rewrite this fic I did a while back that featured John crying over his dad. (It was crudely done, but I wanted to reuse the concept.)
> 
> I then decided that I had to many fics with teary Johns so I added on the one with Rose too because there isn't enough of that stuff!


End file.
